


Interviews

by terri_testing



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:27:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terri_testing/pseuds/terri_testing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape's job interviews with Dumbledore don't go as either had anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Interview

  
Author's note: thanks to colon_mark1 for great beta-ing--who knew getting criticised was such fun?

Not my characters or universe--I'm just having fun

 

  
He had had intensive secret coaching: from Lucius, in manners; from another, in lying to a Legilimens.  
  
There was no need to feel so nervous.  
  
"But," Lucius had told him, "if you're nervous, just remember: diffidence can be becoming in such a young man. Use it."  
  
This was an odd place for a job interview. At least it allowed him the option of a drink, since he was half an hour early. Assuming... did he trust the beverages here, and did he want to interview with alcohol on his breath?

He could order butterbeer, which would emphasize his youth. No. Ale should be moderately innocuous.  
  
He ordered from the decrepit barman and sat at a table, facing the main door but with his back carefully to the entrance to the inner room. His back crawled, but he trusted it would make a good impression when Dumbledore entered. It would be natural to watch for Dumbledore's approach, but leaving his back to another door should make him look like an unsuspicious fool. His sense of hearing was acute enough that he could hear anyone approaching.

He'd never frequented this place as a student. He looked around with some interest; surely that would be natural.  
  
What a dive. And few customers at this hour; that suited him. A woman who'd obviously been in the bar for some time now met his gaze; Snape frowned and looked down.  
  
He looked up incredulously when she plopped herself down opposite him in a gust of alcohol-induced bonhomie. Sherry, he diagnosed by the smell. The poverty he diagnosed from the mismatched, shabby clothing; his lips tightened in disdain as memories swept him. She was some years older than he, by her appearance, though with barflies it was hard to tell.  
  
Despite his unwelcoming frown, she spoke soulfully. "I sense, young man, that you too are a seeker after Wisdom."  
  
His incredulity deepened, joined by amusement. It might be fun to annihilate her. "You sense that, do you?"  
  
"Oh, yes, I have the Eye to see that which is invisible to others." She drew herself up. Her Eye was certainly visible enough, being magnified hugely by glasses. "I am a great-great-granddaughter of the great prophetess Cassandra Trelawney, and my own talents are such that I'm being offered a position at the greatest of schools of wizardry." Her smile wavered between pride and fear.  
  
This was his competition? His annoyance vanished in a mixture of interest and smugness. He'd get the position for sure.  
  
"You've applied for a position at Hogwarts?" he asked to make certain.  
  
"Yes, Albus Dumbledore himself is deeply impressed by my abilities." The bangles on her arm clashed as she raised her glass. She was wearing not one but three shawls; all engaged in sliding off her arms. This unfortunately showed a neckline which, in her case, would have been better to be higher. Her collarbones were singularly unworthy of being exposed.  
  
"I'm sure your abilities are most impressive. As it happens, I too have applied for the position. What an interesting coincidence; perhaps he intends to interview us together." He smirked at her over his ale.  
  
Her glass sloshed as her hand dropped. The bangles clanked on her arms again. She stammered, "You? But you--you're such a, an earthy young man! Intense, but no receptivity to the, the emanations. He couldn't possibly choose you over, over, the great-great-granddaughter--"  
  
Her eyes were pleading for reassurance. The Sickle dropped. The barfly was advertising herself as a seeress and had applied in that capacity.  
  
Snape decided to play her for a moment. "But I thought that you sensed that I too am a Seeker after wisdom? Surely the, ah, receptivity to emanations was what you sensed in me?"  
  
She said a little shrilly, "But--ah--no, that you sought, yes, but that you needed--guidance, a spiritual influence, to accomplish it. Most young men need a woman's spiritual influence!"  
  
Snape decided to end the game; she wasn't worth it. "If your prophetic talent is so great, I wonder it didn't tell you I'm applying for another position entirely. Or that wisdom is the last thing I'd seek! Well, after your company."  
  
She blinked at him, her face flushing as her magnified eyes filled with tears.  
  
Snape continued with a sneer, "You a seer! I should as soon call you a beauty." He observed her humiliated flush with satisfaction; saw how she hastily covered herself again with her shawls.  
  
"Pushing yourself forward as a seer. Great-great-granddaughter of the great Cassandra! Least-least granddaughter, more like. You couldn't predict sunrise with an almanac. You belong in a Muggle carnival, amusing the children. Assuming you can be amusing, which seems improbable."  
  
She blanched and flinched away uncertainly. By now the tears were streaming down her face.  
  
"And thrusting your company on a younger man; did you really think your dubious charms could interest me more than your dubious claims? Possibly you thought I, like you, was drunk enough not to care?"  His cold gaze raked her up and down, lingering maliciously on her gewgaw-covered bosom in a parody of ogling, and he let himself laugh uncontrollably.  
  
He grinned at her back as she ran from the room. He saw that the barman had been watching the byplay; he raised an insolent eyebrow at the old man's expression of disapproval. Well, that had been refreshing. He was much more relaxed now. Snape took a pull of his ale and sat back in satisfaction.  
  
  
  
Snape waited to be invited to sit down. He straightened his dark green robes carefully as he did; he could do nothing to make himself look attractive, but he knew he was dressed with utmost propriety. Lucius's wife had chosen the robes for him; the effect was sober, mature, but she assured him, not overstated. He tented his hands confidently and regarded the old man.  
  
Black eyes met the blue ones squarely. "Headmaster. Thank you for consenting to consider my application."  
  
"I was, Severus, somewhat bemused to receive it. Teaching is a profession that calls for not just great knowledge, but great patience in imparting it. And most of its practitioners are motivated in large part by a strong desire to serve others. My recollections of you leave me in no doubts as to your abilities or knowledge--but my impression was that you were most concerned with serving yourself, and lacked both interest in and patience with others. So why would you wish to teach?"  
  
A blunt opening and an easy one; Snape had practiced answering a hundred versions of this question.  
  
"I admit, I do think most in terms of serving myself in this, sir. I cannot pretend to be motivated by philanthropy. Nor do I expect, to be frank, that I should choose teaching as a lifelong career. I think that I can do the work competently; and that the advantages to myself of several years of experience here, would be many. First, my current position, though responsible for one of my youth, offers no real opportunity for advancement and no easy way to make connections to facilitate doing so. A position back at Hogwarts would leave me much better positioned for further advancement once I left. And I... made the wrong associations when I was here as a boy; I could do better now, and it would serve me to do so.  
  
"Moreover, I think the experience could teach me much of value. You may recall, Headmaster, that my skills in, shall I say, group interactions, are somewhat limited. And learning how to communicate most effectively with members of other Houses should be of great use for me in my later life. I know I have the knowledge for the position, but I shall have to learn how best to impart it, and learning that will serve me.  
  
"Further, I confess that the schedule attracts me, sir. I understand that my responsibilities will leave me much less free time during term than my current Ministry position, but the prospect of uninterrupted time during breaks more than compensates; you understand that pursuing research interests often demands more than a few hours in the evening.  
  
"Finally, I think I should enjoy--a newer and more difficult challenge." At the top of his mind, where Dumbledore could easily read it if he chose, Snape also plastered a hope of proving his old detractors wrong. Lucius had coached him in that one: it would be natural to feel it, to hope to gloat, but suspect to admit it openly.  
  
Dumbledore regarded him though the half-moon glasses. "Mmm. As I recall, Severus, in school you did show a certain aptitude for tutoring your fellows. But only the brighter ones; with those less intelligent than yourself, which alas is most of us, you tended to acerbity bordering on brutality. Ridicule or worse. Do you think your tolerance of those who are not your equals in intellect and power has improved with age?"  
  
Snape chose his words carefully. His, ah, tutoring experience was unlikely to serve him here; he'd mostly taught hexes to his fellow Slytherins. Odd that Dumbledore pursued this issue at a tangent. "I was younger then, and certainly less wise, Headmaster. I doubt I'd teach the same way now. Or quite the same subjects."  
  
He'd rehearsed that last with Lucius; he thought it sounded well. He met the blue eyes candidly. They looked back at him ironically. "What about your fellow teachers? Do you think you'll find it easy to make allowances if one of your fellow teachers seems incompetent by your high standards?"  
  
"I feel sure, sir, that you'd only hire those of the highest standards of competence."  
  
Now the blue eyes looked amused. "That was your opinion as a student?"  
  
His seventh year. That DADA hack he had sent to St. Mungo's in April. Snape flushed and spoke stiffly, "As I remarked a moment since, Headmaster, I was--less wise, several years ago."  Three, to be precise.  
  
"So you can assure me you'd treat colleagues, or prospective colleagues, with propriety and consideration, even if you did not personally respect their competence?"  
  
"I can assure you of that, sir." Snape nodded decisively.  
  
The old wizards head tilted and he met Snapes eyes probingly. Snape held them, projecting quiet deference, confidence, and diffidence mixed with hope. Dumbledore mused, "You seem quite sincere. A good thing to know."  
  
He stood suddenly. "I don't think I need take any more of your valuable time. Thank you for your interest, but I fear you do not meet our needs."  
  
Snape went cold. What could he possibly have said wrong, and in so little time? He stammered, "Is it my youth? Would it be worthwhile re-applying in a year or two?"  
  
The voice was inflexibly courteous. "That would depend very much on how you mature. Thank you for your time. Now if you will excuse me, I have other business to which I must attend."  
  
The old man swept out in a swirl of plum-and-silver robes. The part of Snape's mind that always noted useful effects to make his own marked the swirl. The rest was frozen in panic.  
  
He had failed.  
  
The Dark Lord had been grooming him for this, and he had failed. It was possible, given how he'd been kept out of the normal range of activities, that the Dark Lord only valued him for this role. In which case he might be dead within the hour. Or, depending on the Dark Lord's degree of anger, he might punish Snape himself, or use him to test new potions or curses. The very best, the very lightest punishment he could expect, would be to be given to new recruits as practice for their Cruciatus.  
  
His punishment would not lighten for being delayed; he knew the Dark Lord would expect a quick report. But he was too shaken to Apparate safely. His own sweat chilled him; he sat shuddering in the chair.  
  
Dumbledore had said he'd other business to attend to. Just to interview the barfly, or was there something shady going on? Picking this dive to conduct interviews surely suggested the latter. If he picked up information of interest, his punishment might be mitigated. Snape's pallor eased and he managed, with difficulty, to stop his shaking. He focused and eased out of the room, casting an old Slytherin charm for deflecting attention.  
  
Snape moved soundlessly down the hall, stooping at each keyhole to listen. At the third he heard a murmur; to his disappointment the voice was the barfly's, sounding anxious and ingratiating. Snape slumped against the door in renewed despair.  
  
Then a voice unlike anything he'd ever heard in his life, harsh and authoritative, came from the charlatan;s room. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches--"  
  
What the bloody hell? Was the barfly capable of authentic prophecy? Vanquish the Dark Lord? If he captured a true prediction about the Dark Lord, he'd be rewarded beyond his dreams! He pressed himself to the keyhole, straining to be sure of each word. The slightest turn of phrase could be critical. "Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies--"  
  
A hard hand caught him and slammed him against the opposite wall. The old barman was less decrepit than he looked. "What the hell are you doing, boy, listening at keyholes?"  
  
Snape shook in a crazy mixture of elation, triumph, and terror. Even interrupted, what he'd heard was well worth the Dark Lord's forgiveness. Now what would the old goat lover do to him? Not kill him, not Cruciate him, he was sure.  
  
Shake him by the collar like a dog.  
  
Snape struggled ineffectively against the wiry arms. When the old man slammed him back against the wall and raised his wand, however, Snape was more prepared.  
  
_"Obliviate!"_  
  
Snape blocked the spell with ease and laughed in the old man's face.  
  
The barman slammed open the door and grabbed him by the collar again, throwing him into the room. "Dumbledore!" he roared. "This, this piece of trash was listening in!"  
  
Snape pushed himself off the floor, still laughing. He plastered one thought firmly across the whole top of his consciousness: _He can recover Obliviated memories._  
  
Aloud, he whispered, "Are you going to kill me, old man?"  
  
Know your enemies' weaknesses. He'd been coached about this one.  
  
The blue eyes pierced him; Snape staggered at the force of the mind against his. His thoughts scattered as if in a hurricane. Wandless and nonverbal--no wonder the Dark Lord fears him! That thought coalesced with difficulty in the storm of images and emotions. One image wavered under the weight of Snape's fear: a wizard whose thoughts had been forcibly taken. Mindless and broken. Snape's fate, to be cracked like a nutshell, if the old man Obliviated him. And to no point at all, except to see Snape punished; the prophecy would be extracted like a nutmeat. The only way to keep it secret was to kill him.  
  
When Snape could see again, the Headmaster stood arrested, looking suddenly much older. Where another man might have slumped, he straightened in defeat. He said nothing, but shook his head repressively when the barman raised his wand.  
  
Snape made a show of straightening his clothing. He didn't look at the barman, whose heavy grip hovered near Snape's wand hand. His own hands were still shaking, but his voice came smoothly. "I merely came the wrong way. I was looking for the facilities on my way out. I assure you I had no wish to intrude on any private conversation."  
  
The barfly looked a bit dazed. She cocked up her nose and sniffed, "Listening at the keyhole? How ill-bred! No doubt, sir, you were hoping for tips for your own interview. I doubt such a pushing young man would seem attractive to the Headmaster. Quiet competence and unassuming manners make a much better impression, you know."  
  
Her hauteur was slightly spoiled by her tipsy stagger.  
  
Snape's eyes widened and he suppressed his laugh with difficulty. She hadn't a clue. She didnt know what she'd said, or even that she'd said it. She didn't know she wasn't a complete charlatan. Oh, this was rich.  
  
Snape smiled at her tenderly; she had just saved his life. He looked past her to Dumbledore and his smile broadened in triumph.

He'd known the old man couldn't do it.  
  
The blue eyes were diamond-hard. The black ones danced with mirth as Snape realized that he'd won. Won everything. His position with the Dark Lord, previously--shaky-- would be unassailable now. And Dumbledore--hampered as he was by morals and laws--couldn't even openly denounce Snape as a Death Eater. He'd learned it by illegal Legilimency--inadmissible in any official testimony.  
  
Snape issued his final dare to the Headmaster, grinning openly.  
  
"I'm just leaving now."

 

 

 

This story archived at: [Occlumency](http://occlumency.sycophanthex.com)

 

 

 

<http://occlumency.sycophanthex.com/viewstory.php?sid=5578>


	2. Second Interview

 “Do you always conduct interviews in public houses?”  asked the spy.   “It seems—insecure, somehow.”

He ostentatiously checked Dumbledore’s privacy and locking wards on the room. 

Dumbledore ignored both the sneer and the insult.  “For a number of years now.  The last applicant I allowed onto Hogwarts grounds gave me cause to regret it.  Coincidentally, he was applying for the same post as you.  That is—I do assume you are reapplying for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?  I see no other pretext for you contacting me openly for a meeting.”  

The spy raised his eyebrows and shrugged, flinging himself into the chair opposite Dumbledore’s.  “He still wants a spy at Hogwarts, naturally.” 

Dumbledore considered for a moment and decided to lay some cards on the table.  “Mm.  Perhaps.  But did he inform you that he himself had cursed the position?  When I declined his own application twenty-six years ago?”

Snape lowered his gaze to his hands in the reflexive response of an Occlumens thinking hard:  _don’t meet the eyes._ He was no doubt reviewing the fates of his own seven teachers.  After a moment he murmured to his fists, “That explains much about the past.  And raises questions about the future.  Either he expects to need a spy only for a short term, or he plans to use his”—the voice flexed sardonically—“agent—in another role.”

Snape raised his head and met Dumbledore’s eyes.  “Frankly, I should doubt that it’s the former.  We are not at that point yet and are unlikely to reach it whilst you live.”

Dumbledore said coolly, “That was also my reading of the situation. Tell me, Severus, which story are you applying under? That you’ve managed to conceal from me that you are a Death Eater, or that you’ve convinced me you’ve reformed?”

“The latter.  You denied me the job last year based on your suspicions, which must have been confirmed by my subsequent actions.   So I thought we would, refreshingly, stick with the truth this time.  I owe a life-debt to Potter; that makes me remorseful at playing a role in his prospective death.  I’ve spent much of the last month practicing the story.  Surely I am convincing?” 

Dumbledore met the young man’s sneer with a probing stare.  Snape was an even more accomplished Occlumens than he had realized, to have pulled off skating that close to the truth for a month of probing.  He would have to remember that in his own dealings with him.  And he was bright enough to have realized that he was giving away that information.  An interesting evolution in their relationship. 

He relaxed his stare and answered aloud, “I find myself entirely convinced.  However, I don’t care to risk you in the Defense position; unlike Voldemort, I hope not to have to expend you.  It does seem advisable to let him think he’s getting mostly what he wants from you at this juncture.  I propose, therefore, to offer you the position of Potions Master.” 

“Slughorn is retiring?”  The black eyes widened; the young man felt safe enough to show surprise at that.

“He is persuadable in this matter.  He’s lost control of his House; the choices of so many of his protégés horrify him.   I shall want you to be Head of Slytherin, as well.”

That gave Snape pause.  As it should; Dumbledore’s estimate of his basic intelligence rose again.   

This time Snape stared at his hands for several minutes before looking up.  “I think that I am extremely young for such a position.  And that… my own choices… should not fill you with confidence in my ability to be a good guide for others.”

“I do not expect you to be paternal, rest assured.  I do expect you to exert some control over your charges.  As to being a guide, one can lead by bad example—counterexample— as well as good.”

The young man looked as though he’d bitten something sour.  “I… did not expect my loyalties, whatever they may be held to be, to be made public.”

“Not in the least.  But you know they will be whispered.  Everyone knows, how shall I put it, both your own reputation while at Hogwarts and the current loyalties of many of your former associates.  Voldemort was really quite foolish to imagine that your Half-Blood status and apparent recent inactivity would be enough to exempt you from suspicion.  I trust that you can use the suspicions to establish a firmer control over your House than Horace exerted.  And… your pardon, Severus, for adverting to this, but I believe that you might use the natural sweetness of your disposition to convince the uncommitted that Death Eaters are not, perhaps, the most enjoyable of associates.”

Dumbledore saw a most encouraging twist to the boy’s lips before he lowered his face, the black hair swinging forward to hide his expression.  So Snape’s vile sense of humor could be directed against himself.  A good sign, all in all, if not entirely unexpected.

Snape spoke without looking up.  “I think, Dumbledore, that you can do better by my House than this.”

An even better sign. 

Dumbledore allowed no change to show in face or voice as he responded, “I think, Severus, that you can do better by your House than you think you can.”

Snape whispered, “And when he orders me to recruit them?”  His hands were clenched, half-hidden in his sleeves.  Possibly he thought them fully hidden.

“That is a problem you will face in any capacity you serve at Hogwarts.  How to appear to comply while, regrettably, failing for the most part.  I do point out that he can hardly expect you to recruit openly under my rather prominent nose.  And I will have you under quite close observation—my trust in you is not complete, Severus, that’s why I’m denying you the Defense position.  My concern, of course, is that too much intimacy with the Dark Arts might tempt you to a recurrence of your interest in, er, learning them rather than defending against them.  I’ll let that be known to the staff and Board of Governors, when they question me, as they will; you will in turn let _that_ be known to Voldemort.” 

Dumbledore paused to let that sink in, then addressed the face shrouded behind the dark hair.  “Severus.  Am I correct in believing that the Dark ord tortures his followers when they fail in executing his commands?” 

The boy looked up at that.  The pale face might have been a mask.  “He believes in negative incentives, yes.” 

“ _Will_ making you Head of Slytherin put you at greater risk, then?”

The mask faced him indifferently, but the hands moved, then stilled themselves.  It had startled the boy that that consideration might weigh with Dumbledore, then.  Snape didn’t answer.

Dumbledore smiled at Snape’s confusion.  “I should point out that the added responsibility does increase your salary.  I’m sure that’s a major consideration in your interviewing with Hogwarts in the first place.”

A definite twitch of the lips there, turned to a sneer.  “That’s why the size of the salary was my first question when we opened negotiations.”

Dumbledore’s own lips twitched.  “You still haven’t answered my last question.” 

Snape’s face was still masklike.  The voice was calm, uninflected.  The eyes gave away nothing.  “As you point out, it is a problem I should face whatever position I held at Hogwarts.” 

It would put him at greater risk, then, but he didn’t want that considered.  Was this a need to punish himself, or a budding sense of responsibility?  Time would tell.  And training, perhaps; habits are powerful.  This boy had some very bad ones to unlearn, to be sure.  _That boy enjoys pain,_ Aberforth had told him.  _He sent the lady off in hysterics within minutes.  And then looked like butter wouldn’t melt when you walked in._

Should Dumbledore allow the risk to the boy, given that he was willing?  If Snape broke under torture, much of their planning would be revealed….   No.  That need not be a consideration.  Dumbledore knew that Snape had been considered to “fail” in that … very truncated report the boy had given Voldemort last month.  The one Dumbledore had edited with him so carefully.  He was not likely to face worse for lack of success in recruiting.  Especially given that his “failure” in that area would, alas, be partial.  Some of the children would turn no matter what either man, what any man, did; Riddle’s influence in that House ran already too deep. 

Which left it, of course, to Dumbledore’s conscience:  should he withdraw the offer of House Headship for the boy’s greater safety?  

Physical safety.  He regarded the sallow, sharp face.  He needed a strong Head for Slytherin, however unconventional, even dangerous, the choice of Snape might seem.  And Snape needed something to protect beyond Lily.  Dragon heartstring, that boy’s wand core.  To the bad, avarice, selfishness, violence.  To the good… a protective instinct that once evoked, could never be broken.  Dragons would die to protect their treasure.  Lily Evans, apparently, had evoked that instinct here.  Would the boy extend that fierce protectiveness to others?

His mind determined, Dumbledore spoke.  “Then you accept both positions, Severus?  And we will both give thought to the problem of accounting for your less than sterling recruiting efforts?”

Snape gave a stiff nod.

“I took the liberty of bringing a contract already made up, anticipating your acceptance.  I do suggest you read it at some point; you wouldn’t want to betray total unfamiliarity with the terms we have negotiated today.  It might prove embarrassing.” 

Another slight twitch of the lips.  Really he might come to like the boy.   Dumbledore busied himself with dredging up the paperwork.  Already signed, on his part; he’d anticipated almost all of this. 

“Headmaster.”

Dumbledore looked up from the satchel he was rummaging through, amused at the sudden honorific.

“There is another problem we must give thought to.  If his use for his agent is—the obvious, I cannot do it.”

Amusement died.  Dumbledore registered the bleak eyes, the clenched hands.  Indeed they should take thought for this.  Dumbledore gave his fullest attention to his new teacher.  “Cannot, Severus?  In which sense?”

Snape snorted faintly.  “Most probably, in either.  As to my abilities, I hold no illusions that they best yours.  As to the other… you’re— _her_ best hope.”  Severus looked away reflexively.

Dumbledore had no need to see to know what his Occlumens’ black eyes were filled with.  Pain.  Love.  Terror.  And a hope that expected no fulfillment for itself. 

The boy didn’t make false claims of loyalty to _him_ , Dumbledore noted.  Or hadn’t thought to try that line.  He tilted his head, considering the boy.  His probable assassin, politely declining that job.

“I take the liberty of pointing out, Severus, that this is a problem _I_ face in any case.  From my perspective, your appointment to the task makes things easier.  I appreciate that your point of view is naturally different.  When he does issue the order, we’ll review the current situation and determine what’s best to be done.”

The boy shrugged.  Dead black eyes returned to Dumbledore’s.  Every emotion had been tamped from them but pain.  “But in any case you should regard me as… a temporary employee.  I shall survive neither refusal nor failure.  So why not use me in your— temporary position, after all?”

Dumbledore spoke carefully, holding the black eyes with his.   “Your greatest intellectual failing as a student, Severus, was a tendency to see the worst in things.  A pessimism shading to despair.  As great a weakness, in its way, as blinding optimism, the refusal to admit to problems.

“ _You_ tend to refuse to admit to solutions.  Giving you the Defense position, given the curse, would commit us to a timeline of less than a year before the crisis you fear.  I hope to keep you under my protection, and to keep using you, for much longer than that.  Much may happen, much may be accomplished, in the interim.  If one allows hope.”

Black eyes met his without comprehension, without trust.  But with obedience.  That would suffice to start. 

Dumbledore held out the papers again.

“Headmaster,” Snape breathed, and signed their contract with economical strokes of his quill.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this initially in 2008; I had a rosier view of Dumbledore then.


End file.
